A Lesson in Humility
by NotYourAverageSchoolgirl
Summary: Blaise Zabini is the typical pureblood Slytherin- and proud of it. When a certain muggleborn Ravenclaw comes crashing into his life (literally), will he amend his ways? Or will he simply aggravate her until she stabs him to death? Blaise ZabiniLisa Turpin
1. Default Chapter

**A very random pairing: Blaise Zabini/ Lisa Turpin. Hopefully, you'll find it an enjoyable one. I wanted to try to play with some characterization, so I picked two minor characters I had always liked and threw them into a story together. It's different from what I usually do... but hopefully it's worth reading. **

**Please review if you'd like me to continue!**

Blaise Zabini strode through the halls of Hogwarts confidently, barely glancing at the other students milling about. After all, he was a Slytherin, and one of excellent breeding at that. From the Zabini family records (all meticulously recorded in dusty old tomes in the family library), it was obvious that not only was his family _completely_ pureblood (not a single drop of unclean filth, even from seven centuries back), he was also ridiculously wealthy. Apparently, his great-grandfather had created cockroach clusters, and the Zabini family wealth was derived from this lucrative business. Of course, in keeping with his image as the evil but terribly handsome Slytherin (he ran a hand through his hair with a self-satisfied smirk), he told everyone else that his family fortune came from manufacturing muggle-torture devices.

He allowed his lips to curve upwards in a smirk as he walked (Slytherins never smiled, they smirked). Life was good. It was his seventh year, and in a year, he would be free of this terribly mundane life at Hogwarts and be off, traveling abroad, mingling with high society and spending money lavishly in exotic locales. He could see it already- the beautiful girls, the gorgeous cities, and the heavy purse of ten thousand galleons that his father had promised him for graduation.

Such was the life of the rich, beautiful and utterly conceited.

Lost in his reverie as he daydreamed about the trickling stream of gold coins currently locked away in the Zabini family vault (he could already feel them clinking into his palm), he didn't notice the slender dark haired girl hurriedly making her way from the library with a large stack of books in tow.

Unfortunately, she didn't quite see the Slytherin casually strolling down the hall (after all, he was dressed completely in black) and crashed right into him, sending both students sprawling as their belongings scattered across the hallway.

Lisa Turpin looked up in dismay as she gingerly sat up, wincing as she rubbed her elbow.

_There's a bruise forming, _she thought morosely.

"Oh I'm so sorry," she began to hurriedly apologize to whoever she had run into as she crawled over to retrieve her books. She shoved several books back into her book and stacked the rest in her arms before looking up to see exactly whom she had plowed over. "Are you alright?"

A rather ruffled Blaise Zabini glared down at her coldly. Truth be told, he was rather irked that he had been knocked to the cold hard ground and (horrors!) that his robe had been sullied and his dignified walk interrupted by a careless girl. And, he noted as he looked down at her, a seventh year Ravenclaw who was of shameful parentage. "Out of my sight you filthy mudblood," he spat out with practiced disdain. "And pick up my quills," he added on afterthought, noticing that several of his quills had flown out of his bag and were now lying on the floor.

The girl looked up, her mouth agape at his words. Slowly, she leaned down and picked up his quills one by one.

Inwardly, Blaise proudly congratulated himself.

_September 24th: Only the first week of school and I've already intimidated a mudblood into doing my bidding! Father would be so proud..._

And then much to his surprise, the quiet, seemingly harmless Lisa Turpin drew herself up rigidly, stomped over to him, and promptly jabbed at his shoulder viciously with one of his expensive quills.

He screamed out in surprise (and pain, undoubtedly), but she continued, unfazed.

"You insufferable pompous git, I hope you die of blood loss!" she shrieked angrily as she jabbed quite hard at his shoulder repeatedly. She then proceeded to dramatically toss the pens into his face (he barely had time to close his eyes before he was blinded by the tip of one), and spin on her heel, continuing down the hall without a single glance back.

Blaise rubbed his bleeding shoulder painfully, staring in shock at the back of the frightfully violent girl who had just attacked him.

_And I though Slytherins were supposed to be the vicious ones_, he thought in confusion.

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Lisa was still seething when she reached the Ravenclaw Common Room. Despite her best efforts to concentrate on her reading for homework, she couldn't help but want to kick something as she thought of her encounter with that nasty, arrogant Slytherin.

Mandy Brocklehurst, one of her close friends, came over and sat down next to her. "Hey," she greeted, watching her friend clench her fists. "Is something wrong?"

Lisa sighed deeply, slamming her book shut in frustration. "Well," she ranted, "I just ran into Zabini in the hall, and he was the most conceited prat in the world. He called me a mudblood and then he had the _nerve_ to tell me to pick up his quills."

Mandy clucked sympathetically. "Zabini," she mused, "Isn't he friends with Malfoy?"

Rolling her eyes, Lisa nodded in agreement. "Yes, he's one of t_hose_ arrogant brats."

"Well," Mandy smiled knowingly, "Knowing you, you didn't let him get away with that at all, did you?"

Her friend simply smiled angelically and twirled a lock of dark hair nonchalantly.

"Of course not. I picked up his precious quills and stabbed him with one."

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That evening in the Great Hall, Blaise couldn't quite stop glancing over at the Ravenclaw table worriedly.

No, of course he wasn't afraid of a girl.

Of course.

He continued to try to convince himself of that.

However, he couldn't help but admit that he was now absolutely fascinated by the girl (Turpin, was that her name?) who had stabbed him in the shoulder a record total of eight times. Not that anyone had ever stabbed him at _all_ before, but it was still an impressive feat.

No, of course he wasn't afraid that she'd stomp over here again, her green eyes flashing madly as she stabbed him to death with her steak knife.

Of course not.

He unconsciously rubbed his shoulder again, which he had bandaged on his own in the Slytherin dormitory.

That stupid girl.

His thoughts were interrupted when Pansy Parkinson looked up from simpering over Draco to glance at him. "What's wrong with your shoulder?" she asked, looking at him quizzically as he once again rubbed it.

The other Slytherins nearby looked up with interest as well.

Blaise thought quickly.

It would never do to tell them the truth. Lord, if he told them that he'd been run over and then _stabbed_ by a quiet, studious girl a good five inches shorter than him, he'd be the laughingstock of his whole house. Not that Slytherins _laughed_, mind you. But they'd certainly snicker and smirk and find ways to ridicule him at every turn.

So he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Well," he lied smoothly, his eyes never giving the slightest sign of doubt (his father had trained him from an early age), "I had a bit of a run in with pixies in the Care of Magical Creatures classroom and they injured me a bit," he sighed dramatically, putting on his best "pity-me, I'm a poor, suffering martyr" face. "But don't worry, I'll survive."

Much to his dismay, his companions neither cooed sympathetically nor looked upon him admiringly. In fact, Pansy and Millicent gave each other one look and began giggling, and Draco smirked tauntingly.

"Pixies, Blaise?" he chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Even _first_ years can handle pixies."

"Well." Horribly mortified, Blaise couldn't think of anything to say. It really wasn't his fault that he had had a terrible experience with pixies as a young child.

So resisting the urge to pout, he simply ignored the snickers of his classmates and picked at his steak. Of course, he couldn't even enjoy his food in peace. Every time he picked up the steak knife (or saw any other sharp object for that matter), he was reminded that a certain dark haired Ravenclaw witch could come swooping in at any moment and stab him in the back. And given his very recent run-in with her, he wouldn't be one bit surprised if she did.

He ventured another glance over in the direction of the Ravenclaw table. The Turpin girl sat there with several of her other 7th year friends. Much to his surprise, she wasn't viciously stabbing at her dinner, as he would've expected. Instead, she seemed to be deeply engaged in conversation with another girl, laughing as she stopped every few moments to primly take another bite of her food.

_It's all an act_, he thought resentfully. _Deep down inside, she's really vicious and cruel._

Not that he really knew her well enough to even say that.

But, he was fairly certain, that if she could become so _incensed_ at such a small insult, well then, she must have a terrible temper.

Really, the girl's parents should've taught her to control that nasty little temper.

But then again, they were only mudbloods, and they honestly couldn't be expected to know how to rear children.

Poor dear; she had grown up to be a barbarian.

And so, for the rest of his meal, Blaise Zabini pondered about the terrible lives that muggle-born children led.

And in the end, he decided that his good deed of the day (it was very un-Slytherin of him, but he was feeling especially benevolent for some reason) would be to try very hard to treat those poor, disadvantaged muggles with pity and patience.

_Goodness_, he thought, filled with self-admiration. _I'm really such a wonderful person._

**Please review if you liked it! I'm not sure if I'd like to continue this... **


	2. How Charming

****

**Yay! This was a quick, quick update (warning: don't expect them to come up this quickly in the future). Hmm... so I received a lot of positive feedback, which was nice! Do you know what's weird? I'm starting to like Draco in this story more than I like Blaise (obnoxious, arrogant little prick). But not in an, "Oh I like Draco so much I'm going to turn him into a redeemed!Draco and have him kissing Dumbledore's feet by the end of the fic." No no no... Slytherins do not suddenly give up their dark ways and start spouting poetry to their dearly beloved Gryffindors just like that. They just don't. So with that in mind, remember that Blaise will not become "redeemed" in the way that a _lot _of fics do to Slytherin characters. But that's not to mean that all Slytherins are bad, right? They have personalities and friends and complexities in their beliefs as well (with that said, I'd like to say that I like Pansy in this fic better than the usual "pug-faced, airheaded Parkinson"stereotype). **

**I can actually say a lot about things I don't like in fanfiction, but let me just rant on one thing: slash. I don't like it. Not that I have a thing against homosexuality; I just don't like reading about my favorite characters doing things that are _so_ ooc. For example, Snape/Harry makes me twitch and shudder and want to cry. That's all I have to say. **

**And as for my supposed penchant for "violent girls"? Well, I shall defend myself by saying that yes, Ginny in The Fine Art of Failing is definitely a violent girl, but I'd like to think that Lisa Turpin was just defending herself. She's not psychotically violent, but she's tough, and she's not going to let herself be pushed around.**

**Thank you so much to: Reina del Noche, elvengirl9, BrownPryde, goldseraph, Morgain Lestrage, labryinth, Tru Lys, Chantal J and Ms. Realista.**

**Georgentosser- Thank you for your kind review! I've decided to continue, so I hope you enjoy this!**

**Kingmaker- Ah, my mistake with the first week of school thing. I was just thinking of this one nearby all-girls school (our rivals, actually) who started school Sept. 20th (we started August 16th, those lucky cows). So it was a stupid mistake on my part. However, it shouldn't really affect the story terribly. Yes, I agree with you, Blaise is a _terrible_ person in this fic (annoying, whiny, stupid little boy!), but it's an amusing fic to write and so I'll continue. Thanks for you review!**

**Sabine Strohem-Moss- Oh thank you for following my other fics! Anyways, I definitely agree with you; Blaise has so much potential. I hope you enjoy this chapter and the fic as a whole too! **

**Miss Court-A-Doo- Haha, glad you're enjoying this (and finding Blaise a ridiculous person as well). Lisa Turpin is indeed in the books, but just barely mentioned. I thought she'd be a really fun character to expand on, so here you go!**

**Please read and _review_. Review review review! **

"Oh, where in the world is my wand?!"

Lisa scampered around the girls' dormitory, searching desperately for her school supplies. Due to an exceedingly nasty Potions essay that she had stayed up until three in the morning to complete, the poor girl had accidentally overslept and was now frantically trying to get ready for class, which began in fifteen minutes. She emptied her book bag onto her bed and sifted through the pile of books, parchment and quills, picking out what she needed for the day. She then grabbed several books from her nightstand for that day's classes and continued on her hunt for her wand.

Finally (with five minutes to spare!), she triumphantly pulled it out from under her bed and sprinted out of the dormitory, rushing down the hallway to Charms.

As she breathlessly stepped into the classroom (forty-seven seconds to spare!) she noticed with dread that today the Ravenclaws had class with the Slytherins.

_Ugh_, she thought. _At least it's not a double period._

She scanned the classroom for empty seats and realized with dismay that there was only one-

-Right next to that horrible, insufferable prat Zabini.

Reluctantly, she trudged over to the desk, tossed her book bag down onto the table and sat down, pointedly ignoring the boy.

She breathed in relief when he merely flinched as she sat down, avoiding eye contact with her as much as possible.

_I'm going to die; I'm going to die; I'm going to die_.

Those were the thoughts swimming about in Blaise's frenzied brain as he watched the girl sit down. She pulled out her book, several sheets of parchment and a quill (he winced slightly as she drew it out of her book bag with relish, the malicious glint in her eye not lost on him at all) and set her wand down in front of her neatly.

She then proceeded to fold her hands on the table, cross her legs, and sit up straight as she smiled softly at Professor Flitwick, waiting for the lesson to begin.

Goodness, but she was a _deceptive _little witch.

Professor Flitwick eagerly introduced the class to that day's lesson, which was apparently learning to do wandless magic.

"So," he instructed, "You all must remember _wingardium leviosa_, which you learnt as first years. Today you'll be trying to do it _without _your wands."

And with that, he walked about and passed out a feather to each pair of students.

Placing her wand back into her book bag, Lisa turned to look intently at the feather resting on the desk between her and that _insufferable idiot of a boy._ She bit her lip as she prepared to concentrate deeply on the feather and recite the incantation.

Unfortunately, at that moment, Blaise Zabini remembered the "good deed" that he wished to carry out, which was to treat muggleborns with pity rather than contempt.

"Wouldn't you like me to go first?" he asked as kindly as he could, smiling down at the girl rather like one would smile at a very young child. "Perhaps you'll learn and be able to at least lift the feather a bit."

Lisa whipped her head around to look at him, her eyes narrowed as she clutched the side of the table rather threateningly. "Do you mean," she asked, her voice low and controlled, "That you don't think I can do it?"

"Well," Blaise replied, completely oblivious to her simmering anger, "You know, pure blood has more magic flowing through it, so I'd be a terrific choice if you wanted someone to show you how to perform a charm."

Lisa gritted her teeth together, turned her head so that her hair hid her absolutely murderous expression from that _conceited prick of a boy_, and glared at the innocent little feather lying on the desk.

"_Wingardium leviosa."_

The feather rose, floating up until it was at eye level with her. She slowly guided it downwards with her eyes, watching with satisfaction as it landed on the desk once again.

Gawking, the dark haired boy sitting beside her stared as she performed the spell _perfectly._

She turned to him, raising a single eyebrow as she smiled briefly. The expression on his face was really quite priceless. _Well?_ _What do you have to say now, you prejudiced git?!_

After a moment of silence, Blaise cleared his throat, trying his best to look as dignified as possible. "Ah," he muttered, trying to salvage what little pride he had left, "Some muggles have incredible aptitude and are able to perform simple spells, but of course, purebloods are always better."

To prove his point, he fixed his eyes on the feather and said loudly, with as much bravado and pride as a pureblood could muster, "WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!"

Every pair of eyes in the classroom quickly fixed themselves on him, and a startled Professor Flitwick fell off his desk with an "eep".

And much to Blaise's horror, the feather barely lifted from the desk. In fact, it gave a rather sickly lurch to the side that was barely noticeable and settled down once again.

He heard Lisa burst into a fit of giggles beside him. He lifted his head (well aware that his cheeks were _burning_ at the moment- even though Slytherins weren't supposed to blush) and ventured a glance around the classroom.

At once, he wished that he hadn't. Every Ravenclaw in the room seemed to be either laughing hysterically or trying very hard _not_ to laugh hysterically, and it was a worse reaction among the Slytherins. They were shaking their heads in disappointment, and several refused to even look in his direction. Pansy caught his eye and frowned in disapproval and turned away quickly.

Blaise huffed.

Apparently his attempt to prove that aggravating little witch wrong had gone completely unappreciated. Well fine. Really, people never recognized him for the brilliant boy he really was.

In his moment of greatest embarrassment, Lisa Turpin decided to make it a little worse.

"Well?" she asked, leaning over to look him in the eye, her eyes twinkling in amusement as she absently tucked a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. "Where's that natural pureblood talent, eh?"

He could take no more.  
Blaise proceeded to do a very undignified thing. With a wail of despair, he buried his face in his arms and cried, in a muffled voice, "Leave me alone!"

No, _of course_ he wasn't being childish at all.

Apparently, that Ravenclaw witch didn't seem to be fazed at all. Instead, she patted him on the head in a rather demeaning way and cooed (loud enough for the entire class to hear) words of "comfort". "Oh poor Blaise," she clucked sympathetically. "You poor, poor dear. Are you crying because you couldn't do the spell by yourself? Don't worry, _I'll teach you _if you'd like."

She was a cruel, cruel girl.

Blaise could actually _hear_ the horrified gasps from the other Slytherins around the room. This was horrible; he was going to be treated as their embarrassment after this.

Whipping his head up, he protested, "I'm _not_ crying!"

Of course he wasn't being childish. Of course not.

This, much to his confusion, evoked another fresh round of laughter from the other students.

What he didn't realize, of course, was that he looked rather comical. The normally reserved, perpetually in black Slytherin's hair was mussed up, his face was red with embarrassment, and he was actually _pouting_ petulantly.

Lisa burst into giggles again.

Her day was certainly looking up.

She was in high spirits for the rest of the class period. Not only was wandless magic absolutely _fascinating _(she beamed with pride as she remembered Professor Flitwick's words of praise), but also that stupid Slytherin boy had been absolutely _miserable_ the whole time.

Well, he certainly got what he deserved.

Almost, that is.

Lisa Turpin, who had never served a detention in her life, received excellent marks in all of her classes and was well liked by most of the student body, had a secret fondness for revenge.

And oh boy, was Blaise Zabini going to get it.

Blaise Zabini sighed self-pityingly as he forlornly made his way towards the Slytherin table for lunch. Not that he wanted to be there at all. From the disdainful looks that most of his classmates had thrown his way after class, he had a feeling that it would be a rather nasty lecture he was in for.

Most likely it would begin with something about how he was a disgrace to the pureblood name, and blah blah blah...

No one really appreciated him, and that was quite a shame.

He sat down casually next to Draco Malfoy and eagerly filled his goblet of pumpkin juice, immediately cheering up a bit. Food was _always_ a good thing.

However, at that moment, his blond friend turned to him.

"So Zabini," Draco drawled, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "That was _some_ display of excellent spellwork in Charms, eh?"

Blaise stuffed his mouth with turkey irritably, feeling his cheeks burn up once again. "Oh sod off," he finally muttered.

"Don't chew with your mouth full," Draco responded cheekily.

_Git_.

"Yes, Mum," Blaise responded sarcastically. However, he remembered to swallow before he spoke that time.

Of course, Draco being the _excellent_ friend that he was, decided to persist in his teasing. "Oh yes," he sighed, turning his eyes upward as he clutched a hand to his chest dramatically, "What was that unexpected bout of passion for, Blaise? Were you declaring your love to that feather? Or were you simply trying to threaten that Ravenclaw mudblood? I must say," he relaxed his posture as he smirked once again. "I don't think you were quite successful at all."

The rest of his friends (who had been listening in the whole time) sniggered appreciatively.

And of course, Blaise, who couldn't _stand_ getting his pride hurt at all, had to open his mouth and talk again. "Of course she was afraid of me!" he scoffed, glaring at the still snorting Crabbe and Goyle as convincingly as he could. "I threatened her," he copied Malfoy's confident smirk, "And she was absolutely terrified of me during that lesson."

Pansy leaned languidly over the table, her dark eyes flashing in amusement. "Oh of course," she replied in mock-seriousness. "That would certainly explain why she made an absolute fool of you."

Draco grinned, pecking her on the cheek as he regarded her admiringly.

Pansy blushed and smiled back, leaning in to rest her head on his shoulder.

Blaise wrinkled his nose in distaste. Really, sometimes those two could be so disgustingly sweet to each other that you'd think they were _Hufflepuffs_, for god's sake.

"Of course, Zabini," Draco helpfully added, "When someone's especially terrified of you, they _do _tend to baby you and comfort you when you're in tears."

Blaise pouted some more. "I wasn't in tears," he protested, but the other Slytherins simply gave him knowing smirks.

_Sure_, they seemed to say.

Blaise took one look at them and groaned inwardly.

God, he needed some more turkey.


	3. We Meet Again

**Whoa. Thanks for being so patient guys... I can't believe I took two whole months to update this! But it's been busy... so you must excuse me. Hope everyone's having a fantastic Christmas vacation and a Happy New Year! Anyways, this chapter is much longer than the usual chapter, so I hope you'll like it! Tell me what you think, kay?**

**Thanks to- Chantal J, Sabine Strohem-Moss, BrownPryde, Ms. Realista, kingmaker, reina del noche, Elvengirl9, Miss Court-A-Doo, Tru Lys, Morgain Lestrage, and VoicezWithin! **

**Your reviews were very very much appreciated and pushed me to actually continue this story. Please keep it up!**

**Well, enjoy!**

Two weeks had passed, and Blaise hadn't seen much of that strange little Ravenclaw girl who had stabbed him. He didn't think too much of it. Perhaps she had forgotten about him and decided not to bother him anymore. Or perhaps she had new victims to torture mercilessly. Whatever it was, it was a relief to not have to peek over his shoulder (secretly of course, since he would _never_ admit to being afraid of a girl) at every turn, expecting a brunette witch to suddenly pop out brandishing his quills.

He wished that he could say the same about his nights. It seemed that every time he lay down on his emerald green bed and snuggled beneath the heavy comforter (the dungeons were rather chilly, after all), his head was filled with nightmares of a certain Ravenclaw hunting him down.

Blaise yawned, pulling himself out of bed groggily. He didn't have to look in the mirror to know that he had dark circles under his eyes from a fitful sleep. _Argh._

Beside him, Draco Malfoy was putting on his school robes. "'Morning, Blaise," he muttered, glancing over at his friend. "Merlin! You look like hell, Zabini. Honestly, what's been wrong with you? You haven't been sleeping well for the past two weeks!"

Blaise shrugged, tiredly running a hand through his dark hair as he shivered. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back underneath his warm comforter and sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, he dreamt of being stabbed repeatedly on his shoulder with a quill. "Nightmares," he confessed. "I keep having nightmares." With a groan of despair, he yanked open his bedside drawer and angrily pulled out his clothes and began to change.

"About what?"

Oh Merlin. He inwardly groaned. If he told Draco the truth, he would never hear the end of it. The news would be all over the school in two hours- Blaise Zabini was terrified of a harmless little girl! Goodness, why did he have to say he was bothered by nightmares? Why couldn't he have just said something suave, like, "Well Draco, what do you think keeps me up at night? Have you been keeping as tight a rein on your girlfriend as you thought?" and waggled his eyebrows suggestively? Then again, if he had actually said that, Draco would've hexed him within an inch of his life and then delivered him personally to Turpin. Ah. Maybe the nightmare story was better.

"Well," he explained, pausing for a moment to come up with a believable answer. "I keep having nightmares about, err… well. Err…"

Draco's usual trademark smirk widened. "It's something embarrassing, isn't it?" he goaded, sitting down on his bed to face Blaise.

"Of course not!" Blaise was quite affronted. It didn't matter that the truth really was embarrassing- Malfoy here was insinuating that he dreamt of silly childish things! Just because he had divulged to him once that he had nightmares about being attacked by hoardes of pixies… that prat. "My nightmare was perfectly reasonable. In fact, I'm sure if you had nightmares about the same thing, you'd be bloody terrified!"

"Really," Draco drawled, raising an eyebrow knowingly. "Then why don't you just tell me?"

Honestly, the boy was so hard to convince of anything. He'd just have to come up with a brilliant story that would terrify even Draco Malfoy!

"Well," he tried again. "I keep having this recurring nightmare where the Gryffindors gang up on me and turn me into a ferret, again and again and again…"

He trailed off with a smirk. Draco was bright red and staring at the carpet in embarrassment. He looked like a lost little boy- hilarious! Not that Blaise enjoyed bringing up his friend's worst experience or anything. It's just that he had been desperate for a story.

"Ah," Draco finally coughed out. "Sounds terrifying. Anyway," he continued hurriedly, "We'd better get down to breakfast, don't you think?"

He looked bloody terrified. Darn. And now Blaise was starting to feel a bit guilty. "Yes," he finally replied apologetically. "After all," he added, "Pansy'll be waiting for you, won't she?"

Embarrassment forgotten, Draco perked up, springing from his bed like an excited little boy on the way to the toy store. "You're right!" he exclaimed, bounding over to Blaise's bed and tugging his friend to his feet. "Come on, come on! Hurry up! We can't make her wait!"

Blaise groaned again. Ah. He knew there was a reason why he didn't normally mention Pansy around Draco. An excited and smitten Draco was utterly embarrassing- he could already see the other Slytherin boys looking over in their direction curiously. But at least he was happy and not thinking about ferrets right now. Ah. Blaise sighed in self-admiration. Honestly. The things he did in the name of friendship.

"Alright, let's go then."

Blaise followed a skipping Draco out of the boys' dormitory and into the Common Room. As expected, a bored looking Pansy Parkinson was seated in one of the armchairs, twirling a dark strand of hair around her fingers as she chatted with Millicent and Daphne.

"'Lo Pansy," Draco greeted, rushing to his girlfriend's side to peck her on the cheek.

"Finally you've come down!" she admonished with a mock-glare, but broke into a smile after a moment, letting Draco help her to her feet. "I'm starved. I hope they have sausage for breakfast today. Oh and eggs! I'm craving scrambled eggs, dear."

Grinning at each other, the two lovebirds scampered out of the room, off to the hall to eat breakfast together. Blaise glanced at the two girls still sitting in the Common Room and smiled when he saw them make faces at each other.

"Hello Bulstrode, Greengrass." He nodded at them in greeting.

"Hi," Millicent muttered, still making a disgusted face at Daphne, who promptly burst into giggles.

"Hi Blaise!" Daphne said brightly, getting up with a bounce as she swept her light brown curls over her shoulder. "It seems Draco's abandoned you."

"Ah yes," he replied with a roll of his eyes. "It seems every time he's in Pansy's presence, he forgets I'm even alive. And," he added with an arrogant smirk, "who could ever forget _me_? It's unfathomable!"

The girls groaned and rolled their eyes at him. "Oh honestly, Zabini," Daphne huffed, slapping him on the shoulder. "Anyways, how's your mother? Well, I hope?"

"Of course," he replied smoothly. "She sends her regards to the both of you. Of course, all of our mothers are in close contact."

They slowly made their way to the Great Hall.

"Of course," Millicent replied. "Pureblood women stick together, isn't that right, Daphne?"

Daphne nodded pensively in agreement. She glanced over at Blaise and Millicent to either side of her and sighed. "I suppose," she said with a dejected sigh. "That one day all of us will be married to each other and see each other at absurdly rich social gatherings and all worship the Dark Lord together, eh?"

Blaise smirked. "Now Daphne," he replied lightly. "Don't sound _too _excited there."

But what she said was true, he thought with a slight frown. In several years time, he would most definitely be married to one of the Slytherin pureblood girls and learning the family business from his father. Of course, he wasn't in a family where killing muggles brought in income (unlike Draco Malfoy). He'd be learning something ridiculously boring, like the secret recipe for Cockroach Clusters. Bloody hell! He didn't even _like_ Cockroach Clusters!

Daphne wouldn't be deterred and continued with her depressing comments. "My mother wants me to marry you, Blaise," she remarked flatly.

Her lack of enthusiasm really did hurt his pride. Blaise enjoyed her company and wasn't completely averse to marrying her someday. Certainly, he didn't see her as more than a friend, but with their relationship, he could have her as a wife and have mistresses on the side. Or something of that sort, at least. She was more intelligent than most of the girls he knew, anyway, especially those two simpering fifth years who wore too much makeup and giggled whenever he walked past them in the Common Room. Just thinking about them made him shudder.

"Well," he pouted. "Who wouldn't want to marry me?"

She shot him a glare that meant that she was in no mood for his jokes. "I don't, Blaise, and you know that. I… we're set to be married a year after we graduate. Isn't that strange?"

He shrugged in reply. Arranged marriages were commonplace among pureblood families, as preserving the family honor was the most important thing. And what more important to family honor than making sure that your children married people you approved of and knew the backgrounds of? It was quite simple, and though he didn't particularly like the custom, he didn't hate it either.

Some, like Malfoy, were lucky and were paired with people they adored. Most ended up married to people they didn't love. It was the way that things worked, and Blaise certainly wasn't going to fight tradition.

"Strange?" Millicent shrugged. "I uh, guess so. My parents were the same way though, so I don't think it's too weird or anything."

"You're set to marry Goyle, right?" Blaise asked.

"Mm," she nodded. "It doesn't really bother me. He's a bit dense," she rolled her eyes and giggled. "But he's decent to me. So…" she shrugged again.

"Ah," Blaise gestured as they came into the Great Hall. "Here we are, ladies. So shall we go get something to eat?"

They nodded and made their way over to sit with the other Slytherins, laughing as they scooped eggs onto their plates.

Across the hall, a certain Ravenclaw was watching the Slytherin table avidly, as she had done for the past two weeks.

"You're staring again," Mandy told Lisa as she reached across the table for the jar of jam. "Stop it. Hasn't the poor boy suffered enough? What've you got planned for him now?"

"I can't tell you," Lisa replied, turning back to her breakfast as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

"Promise me you won't get house points deducted?"

"I promise," Lisa replied with a grin, rolling her eyes. "Oh you! Always worried about house points, aren't you? Honestly, you make me feel bad for even thinking about exacting my revenge."

Mandy laughed, reaching over to grab Lisa's ponytail holder. "Oh Lisa. When are you going to start waking up on time and actually taking time to dress? Your hair's a tangled mess. I didn't even know straight hair could get this tangled!"

"Yes," Lisa waved a hand dismissively in reply. "It's quite the bird's nest, isn't it? I've no patience for it at all, sometimes."

"But you looked lovely at the Yule Ball."

"That was years ago. I've reached the point where all I do is sleep, eat and study. And sometimes I don't even have time for sleep. So it's a wonder I'm even showered when I come down to breakfast."

"What a dull existence."

"Exactly." Giggling mischievously, Lisa turned her head away to allow Mandy to neatly braid her hair. "That's why I need to spice it up a bit. And what better way than to plan a certain Slytherin's demise?"

Mandy frowned in disapproval, snapping the hair tie onto the end of the braid. "Well," she finally said, pursing her lips together. "Be careful, alright? Those Slytherins are a nasty lot. I just don't want to see you getting hurt."

Lisa giggled in reply, shooting her friend a look as she reached back to feel the braid. "Oh honestly, Mandy. You should know by now that I can most definitely take care of myself."

Mandy smiled in reply. "I guess I should be feeling sorry for Zabini, huh?"

"Exactly. Save your concern for him. He'll be needing it a lot more than I do."

Blaise left the Great Hall with Daphne, making their way to their History of Magic class. "Hey," he said, nudging his friend. "You've been looking glum since our conversation before breakfast. What's wrong?"

She turned to him, her forehead furrowed in concentration as she frowned slightly. "I really am bothered by all these pureblood customs," she remarked, sighing. "It's stupid, I know," she continued on seeing his frown. "But I can't help it. We have to get married, for Merlin's sake, and we don't even vaguely like each other in a romantic sense! Doesn't that bother you?"

"I, erm," he replied uncomfortably, as they walked into the classroom and sat down together. "Not particularly, I guess. I've never really thought about it. It's just the way things are, isn't it?"

"Oh," she sighed as she set down her books. "That's just because you've never really found anyone you liked."

He frowned thoughtfully, nodding as he thought about what she had just said. It was true, he thought. He appreciated girls, but had never found one that had truly fascinated and made him into a besotted idiot. No, he'd never been in love before, and so he supposed he wouldn't know…

"Hey!" he suddenly said, coming to a realization. "You like someone don't you?" When she didn't reply, he clapped his hands together gleefully. "Oh Greengrass, who is it?"

"Shh," she hissed frantically, glaring at him. "No one's supposed to know. And for your information, I just don't like someone. I'm seeing someone."

"Someone I know?"

"Oh… I suppose. Maybe. He's in our year."

"Slytherin?"

She gave him a pointed look. "Do you think I'd keep it a secret if he were in Slytherin?"

"Ah, good point. Who then?"

"Goodness, you sound like Millicent and Pansy. Always nosing into my love life."

"Teeellll meeeee…" Blaise wasn't generally one to resort to whining childishly, but he knew it would annoy Daphne greatly. He had known the girl since childhood, after all.

She huffed, glaring at him in a way that clearly meant that she wanted him to shut up.

He paid no heed.

"Come on. Pleaaaseee? I promise if I ever do like someone I'll tell you first. Oh come on, Daphne…" he continued stubbornly.

"Shh…" she hissed. "Look, he's in this room, okay? So if you could please be very quiet when I tell you…"

"Ravenclaw then?"

"Well what do you think? This is a Ravenclaw and Slytherin class period, isn't it?"

"No need to be snippy, Greengrass."

"Shut up or I won't tell you."

"Fine."

"Fine." She lowered her voice to a barely perceptible whisper. "It's… it's Anthony Goldstein, alright?"

"Whoa." Blaise looked around the room, his eyes landing on the table directly behind them. Turning back to Daphne, he lowered his voice. "Prefect Anthony Goldstein?"

"Are there many others?"

"Hmm…" he thought for a moment. Quite honestly, he should be absolutely offended at the moment. His bride to be had just chosen a Ravenclaw over him, for Merlin's sake! But well… ah goodness. His darned good spirit kicked in again. Daphne was his friend after all, and he saw her as nothing more. And Anthony… though he hated to admit it, the boy was a decent, intelligent boy. And he was loyal and goodhearted in a way that few Slytherins were. Shooting the Ravenclaw boy one last glance, he turned back to Daphne, who was biting her lower lip nervously. "I approve," he said grudgingly. "Look, I'll help you with whatever you need. Keep your secret, lie to our parents, whatever- I'll do it. As long as you're happy."

Daphne squealed, hugging him. "Thanks!" she whispered, "That means a lot. And I was afraid of your reaction the most… you are my fiancé after all, and I was afraid you wouldn't be alright with it." Turning around in her seat she smiled at Anthony, who was watching them uncertainly. Leaning over, she whispered something to him. When she was done, Anthony turned to Blaise and smiled in relief.

"Thanks," he mouthed.

Blaise simply nodded in reply. Ah, another good deed for the day done.

The class droned on and he found himself unable to listen to the boring historical facts thrown at him. Instead, he doodled on the edges of his parchment, drawing little boxes as he sketched out his little comic book stories. He glanced around the room furtively to make sure no one was watching. Dear god… if they ever found out that Blaise Zabini, the tall, dark and handsome Slytherin made comic books for children…

He'd never hear the end of it.

Satisfied that no one was paying attention to him, he became so engrossed in his comic books that he didn't notice when class ended and Daphne said goodbye, walking out after Anthony Goldstein.

Unfortunately for him, he didn't notice a quiet girl make her way over to his table either. Not until she sat down beside him, that is.

Looking up, he widened his eyes in fear when he realized that that Turpin girl was sitting next to him. The girl who constantly showed up in his nightmares… Dear god, he was doomed.

"Hi Blaise," she greeted in a singsong voice, noticing his terrified expression. "Haven't run into you in a while, have I?"

He managed to squeak out," Um. No?"

Dear god, dear god. She was going to kill him. Rip him apart with his school supplies and throw his remains in a lake. How would he ever travel the world if he were dead? How would he enjoy his lunch? How would he enjoy his dinner? How would he ever lie to his parents about marrying Daphne? All the wonderful plans that he had were gone.

"Right. Honestly, it's like you've been avoiding me." The girl had the cheek to give him a smirk.

"No. Of course not. Why would I do that?"

Oh god, oh god. He couldn't die now. He hadn't even graduated yet. He was still young, too young to die!

Lisa grinned. Oh this was too much fun. The poor boy was absolutely terrified. And she knew exactly what she could do to make his life more miserable… Stabbing him or any other form of physical violence was so utterly overrated. She had to torture him in a way more effective… a way more subtle.

"Oh Blaise," she admonished, flipping her braid over her shoulder as she sat down, tapping her quill on the desk. She smirked in satisfaction when she noticed how he glanced down at the quill in terror. "You really shouldn't avoid me so much. Just because we had one little run in…"

"I'm not avoiding you," Blaise argued weakly, glancing around the room for a means of escape. The psychotic Turpin girl was getting ready to stab him already. He needed to escape!

"Look Blaise," she finally said. "You've been terribly rude to me, and I want you to make up for it."

"Sorry, sorry!" he apologized… no, he begged. He did want to live, after all.

She silenced him with a glare. "I think you need to learn how to respect muggles. And that's why I'm going to have you meet me once a week for an extra Muggles Studies session. I will see you at lunch on Wednesday out by the lake," she commanded, leaving no room for argument. "And in the meantime, I don't want to hear about you ever disrespecting muggles in any way. I have my ways of finding out whether or not you obey, and believe me, if I hear about you calling anyone a mudblood, I will hunt you down and stab you within an inch of your life."

Blaise sat, mouth agape and nodded dumbly.

"Good." Lisa smiled sweetly, standing up and stuffing her quill back into her bookbag. With a little wave, she skipped out of the room, pausing to give a cheery farewell to the professor.

Blaise groaned, sinking into his seat. He was as good as dead.


End file.
